You’re My Antidote
by bumb1eBee
Summary: Two seperate beings are more related than Hermione and Draco imagined. What happens when the past and present merge unveiling the truth?


Expect this fic to be long. If you're a big DracoHermione shipper that enjoys lengthy, lemony, and romantic fics, you've found yourself heaven. Feel free to flame and bash as long as you're signed into an account because I know how flamers love to harass anonymously. And to those who like the story, just review and let me know so I have encouragement to update faster.

_Disclaimer_: I don't know why we still do this. You probably know that everything belongs to a well-known author, JK Rowling, right? Uh-huh, she owns everything except, of course, the plot. (That's mine—hands _off_!)

Chapter Title: _Loving Eyes and a Birthday Surprise_

Chapter Summary: _It's Draco's birthday and Hermione wants to prepare a perfect cake. She relies on her neighbors, the Cobblestones, when she lacks a few certain ingredients. A peculiar encounter with Debra Cobblestone's mother, Anna Millings makes Hermione stop to think. But when she sees that pretty girl, Jane Parker under her apartment window, she's not happy. _

Chapter Rating: _PG-13 for language and extremely mild sexual behavior. _

Credits: _None so far. The inspiration for the chapter comes from nowhere in particular. It's just a plot bunny trying to take over my vulnerable mind…_

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**Chapter 1 – Loving Eyes and a Birthday Surprise**

* * *

_Devil's Chocolate Cake_

Butter and flour, for spring form pan  
2 cups pastry flour  
3/4 cup cocoa powder  
11/2 teaspoons baking soda  
1/2 teaspoon salt  
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature  
2 cups sugar  
4 eggs  
1/2 cup plus 2 ounces buttermilk  
1/2 cup plus 2 ounces brewed coffee  
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

"Hmm…" Hermione reread the recipe list, her eyes widening. "_Shit_. Unsalted butter?" She inspected the stick of butter in her hand and sighed. In large, red, apparent letters spelled _Salted Butter. _She slammed the butter down, pacing across the kitchen to the cupboard, scanning down the boxes of herbs and ingredients, frowning when she realized vanilla extract weren't one of them. Hermione had just returned from a quick visit to the supermarket and she hadn't been anticipating an incentive to go back so quickly. She had designed the most delicious, presentable chocolate cake in her mind—the best birthday cake Draco could ever ask for. And now, he'd be home in 30 minutes and she still hadn't found all the right ingredients essential to creating Draco's favorite dessert successfully.

An option could be to ask the next-door neighbors, the Cobblestones. She chewed on her lip, considering this alternative and casually leaning against her kitchen counter, tapping her chewed nails against the smooth limestone top. Debra and Martin Cobblestone lived next door in a two-story white bricked building adorned with French-style windows and a glossy front door complete with a glass screen in scripted with the initial _C_ in honor of their surnames. Bluebells tangled into vines under their swollen willow that sprouted lavender weeds, occasionally sprinkling their plush lawn. Garden gnomes with red and blue hats that pointed to the sky like elves adorned their sidewalk in a persistent row that lead up to their sturdy mailbox, a complete replica of their manor.

Hermione tightened her Burberry scarf around her neck, crossing her arms over her winter jacket as she traced down the sidewalk, eyeing the gnomes curiously as she made her way up the Cobblestones' driveway. She stepped onto their stone porch, dodging the swinging floral birdfeeder that hung overhead, connecting to the roof. She paused to smell the purple pansies spilling over the sides of a pot set on the windowsill. Then, she outstretched a gloved finger, pressing it against the marble-like doorbell and waited as a soft tune (one of Beethoven's symphonies) emitted from underneath her finger.

"Must be Gloria for a round of tea," Hermione listened as a sickly joyful voice grew louder on the other side of their front door. "Gloria?" The thick salmon-colored door swung open, revealing a perky Debra Cobblestone, clad in a pink blouse and a matching apron with frill embellishing the soft embroidered edges. "Oh. Hello, how are you?" Debra's voice was now several octaves and pitches lower which made Hermione's ears extremely happy. "Good morning, Debra," Hermione replied, half-smiling. "I'm trying to make Draco a proper birthday cake for tomorrow but I'm running short of a few ingredients." Hermione began breathlessly. Her nose was scarlet; she was sure as well as the ridges of her ears and cheeks.

Debra just stared for a moment, before flashing Hermione a smile and nodding. "Yes. Well. What is it that you need? I'm baking myself. Come in, close the door behind you, we don't want to let the cold in," She wandered down the foyer, through a thin hallway complete with a variety of the Cobblestone ancestry. Entering the kitchen, Hermione noticed three pots simmering above an open flame on the stove, a baking pie in the oven, and several measuring cups along the counter, all consisting of baking ingredients such as sugar and flour.

Martin Cobblestone sat cross-legged at the kitchen table, wriggling his gray mustache as he read the daily newspaper. "Martin. We have a visitor." Debra announced, adding all the flour into a large glass bowl. Martin inspected the uncertain Hermione over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "Hello." He said in a rough hollow voice. Hermione bit her lip, smiling wearily and waving. "Hello Mr. Cobblestone." She replied, watching as Martin grunted, returning to his newspaper, fondling a large cup of orange juice in his hand.

"Right, so what exactly did you need?" Debra asked cheerfully, patting excess flour on her apron and pouring in 3 egg yolks to the bowl. "Oh…right. Just a stick of unsalted butter and a teaspoon of vanilla extract, please." Hermione said. Debra headed towards the oven, laughing to herself. "Who in their right mind would buy _salted_ butter?" Hermione stood in the middle of the kitchen awkwardly as Debra pulled on a thick cooking mitt, pulling out a tray of chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies. "Smells delicious, hon." Martin grumbled over his newspaper. Debra smiled broadly, setting the tray on top of the counter. "Would you like a cookie, dear?" Debra turned to Hermione who politely shook her head.

An ancient woman entered the room slowly, wrapped up in a red sweater and a white woolen scarf. Her white hair was thrown up in a clip, her soft blue eyes settled on Hermione. "Hermione Malfoy. Is that you?" Hermione blushed a deep crimson before shaking her head and smiling. "No ma'am, it's just Hermione. I'm not married to Draco." She smiled warmly shaking her head. "Ah, but you will. Love sparkles in your eyes, dear." Debra frowned, peeling off her oven mitts and sighing. "Mom, stop badgering the young lady about marrying that troublemaking boy. Her time will come." Anna Millings smiled, nodding knowingly. "I know that, Deb. That's what I told her just now, didn't I?"

Debra laughed, hurrying across the kitchen and gathering Hermione's ingredients. "Thank you, Mrs. Millings. I bet I _will_ marry Draco someday." She thanked Debra and Martin for the ingredients before heading towards the door. "You're a good girl," Anna cooed, stopping Hermione in the doorway, "you're a very good girl." She said, patting Hermione's stomach before she went on her way home.

* * *

Hermione was exhausted by the time she got home, prepared the cake, and let it sit in the fridge for the party tomorrow. Draco had called in, his voice dripping with remorse and utter frustration as he told her about the trafficked roads and the stoplights that just wouldn't change to green. "I'll be home late, then," He murmured, frowning as Hermione sighed. "I love you." He said and Hermione went off to their bedroom for sleep.

"Mr. Malfoy," Jane Parker stopped the man before he could reach the top of the stairs on the apartment's guest entrance porch. "Will I see you again?" She whispered hopefully, her green eyes sparkling. Draco half-smiled, caressing her face numbly. Her blonde hair fell over her eyes as she watched him hesitate to answer. "Just call me when you find words, Mr. Malfoy." She said, stuffing a note into his hand. With that, she turned away and raced down the street, towards the payphone at the crosswalk. Draco watched her press the cold black phone to her ear as she leaned against the glass wall, playing with her hair self-consciously as she felt Draco's gray orbs observing her.

Only when a taxi showed up at on the street, glowing through the night, did he dare open the front door and step inside the overheated apartment entrance, fitting his key into the keyhole and wandering inside, towards the elevator. All the lights were off when Draco stumbled inside his house, creeping towards his bedroom. He smirked when he saw the sleeping figure in his bed, her long brown locks of curls sprawled across her pillow, her lips pressed into a pout as she slept on her stomach, facing his usual side of the bed.

Draco pulled off his pants, shaking off his jacket as he approached the bed, sliding in and wriggling under the covers. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she took in the scene, realizing Draco was there in bed with her. "Busy day?" She murmured, almost inaudibly. Draco smiled. "Very busy day." He replied in the same soft voice. "I'm tired." She mumbled, yawning into her pillow. Draco slung a muscular arm around her petite frame, reeling her in closer to him. "So I guess the chances of you agreeing to a quick round in the sack would be—" Hermione smiled against his chest, shaking her head sleepily. "Slim to none." She murmured, and fell fast asleep again.

A few hours later, Draco was woken by a soft tapping against their windowpane. "Draco?" An urgent whisper sounded throughout the street as Draco threw over his covers and roamed around his bed, towards the window. He threw a double-take at the small figure standing on the sidewalk, a fistful of pebbles in her hand. He opened the window hurriedly, sticking his head out and staring at the smirking blonde, flabbergasted. "Jane?" He muttered, trying hard to keep his voice soft but at the same time loud enough so she could here him. "What are you—" Jane gestured him to come downstairs. "Could you come down here?" She wondered aloud and Draco cursed under his breath as he slipped on some jeans, grabbed a jacket, and disappeared into the cold night.

"Jane, I thought you went home." Draco breathed as soon as he made his way outside. Jane ran towards him, throwing her arms around him and smiling. "I've been thinking all night—well not _all_ night because it hasn't been the whole night—but—" She held his face in her hands and bit her lower lip, reminding Draco of Hermione. "What," He stepped away casually, fisting his hands into his pockets, "have you been thinking about, Jane?" He inquired a bubble building up in his throat. Jane shivered against the cold air and sighed, shaking her head. "You might think I'm ridiculous—I mean I'm only eighteen. You—you're twenty four! And of course, I'm your client. You're just selling me a house," She sucked in breath, kicking the rocky street with the heel of her boot. "But I can't stop thinking about you."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but Jane went on, tentatively and overwrought. "Are you seeing someone? You probably are—you're probably married and happy and—" "_Jane_," Draco took her wrists in his hands. Jane turned her head to face him, her skin washed out, her eyes weary. "What?" She mumbled, fixing her eyes towards the ground. "You're a great girl. Really. But I _am_ seeing someone right now." He licked his lips that had been chapping in the cold. "I'm sorry, Jane, you're—" "There's nothing to be sorry about." Jane whispered, her breath swirling in a cloud, rising above their heads. "I should be sorry. For bothering you. I can be really silly sometimes." She turned away and began to run. Draco noticed that a taxi was already lined up against the sidewalk. He watched her throw herself inside and throw cash at the driver as the car sped off into the night as he walked inside.

Draco was surprised to see Hermione standing in their doorway when he got to the sixth floor of the apartment, stumbling out of the elevator. "Where were you?" She asked, standing in her nightdress and slippers. "Who was that girl?" Draco paused, his heart beating wildly. "How—" "You left our window open. I heard yelling and when I looked out the window I saw two figures, one that oddly looked like the man I love, the other like a pretty young girl. The empty bed behind me simplified the fact that it _was_ the man I love with another woman," She acidly stared him down, watching him stand uneasily in a wife beater, baggy jeans, and a thin spring jacket.

"Now, I'm pretty sure that your clients aren't eager to see you at 3 o'clock in the morning to talk about real estate." Hermione said breathlessly, folding her arms. "So could you please tell me who the hell that was?" She went on before Draco could reply, "you come in late without giving me a decent explanation of _why_ you wouldn't be home on time. Then you disappear during the night and I find you out on the street with some pretty girl—" She stared at the ceiling, her eyes watering. "Are you bored, Draco? Can't you stay happily with one girl? Or are you so used to fucking a new girl every other day that you had to sneak out of the house while I was sleeping and—"

"I didn't _fuck_ her, Hermione," Draco sneered, getting quite annoyed that not a single woman was letting him speak up tonight. "She's eighteen." The tears that were daring to fall did just that as Hermione laughed. "That's amazing news, Draco. I'm happy for you that you can still get young girls—" "She's a _client_, Hermione—" "An eighteen-year-old client? Oh and I suppose you were just talking about business down on the street—" "She _likes_ me and she was just—" "That's lovely, Draco! I'm abso-fucking-lutely happy for you—" "If you'd just listen then you'd—" Hermione turned around, stepping inside the house and wiping at the tearstains on her flushed cheeks. "I'm tired; Draco—and I don't want to hear any witty excuse from you." She paced off towards their bedroom. "I'm going to bed." She announced and slammed the door behind her.

Draco sauntered inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flopping onto the living room couch. _There's no way in hell that Hermione will me in the bedroom so I might as well pass out here for tonight_, he thought groggily. A few moments after closing his eyes, sleep claimed him without another interruption from any clients or angry girlfriends.

* * *

The sun flooded through the living room window the next morning. Draco stirred, groaning as he rolled onto his side with a big yawn. He sneaked a sideways glance at his bedroom door which was slightly opened. All the lights were on in the house, suggesting that Hermione was already awake. Draco got up and stretched, slowly making his way down the thin hallway towards the bathroom. He grew alert to the sound of running water from the sink and the peculiar noise of a toothbrush scrubbing against teeth.

He made his way inside the bathroom, his eyes falling upon Hermione whom was leaning against the sink, brushing her teeth still in her nightdress and slippers. "Happy birthday." She said, her voice muffled by the toothbrush. She quickly spit out the paste and washed her toothbrush, turning to Draco uncertainly. "I'm still mad at you," She murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, "but today's your birthday and it's only fair that I listen to your explanation." She smirked as they walked through the hallway, towards the kitchen, holding hands. "I hope it's reasonable." She said, plopping down onto one of the kitchen stools.

"It's simple, really," Draco began uneasily, "her name is Jane Parker and she's my client. She's looking for a house because she just graduated from high school and I guess she sort of fancies me." Hermione cocked an eyebrow, leaning against her elbow that was propped up against the table. "Last night, she showed up at our apartment and—it was bizarre—I felt bad, Hermione. She told me she couldn't stop thinking about me." Hermione smiled. "Sounds like she feels like the same way I felt about you back in Hogwarts." She rapped her fingers against the table, smirking. "Although she probably didn't know you were such a wanker." She teased, emerging from her seat and crossing over towards the fridge.

She yawned, pulling open the fridge door and keeping it open with the side of her hip as she reached in and took out the Devil's chocolate cake she had prepared from him yesterday. "Is that what I think it is?" Draco wondered, rushing over and dipping his finger into the creamy wave of frosting, sampling it before Hermione could protest. She smiled. "Uh huh. I did a damn good job if you ask me." She said, laughing. "I was terrible about getting the right ingredients—I had to go over to the Cobblestones' for some butter and vanilla." She explained, resting her head on his shoulder. "I saw Debra Cobblestone's mother, Anna Millings. Bless her; she's recovered from cancer fine." She smirked into Draco's skin, shaking her head.

"She said she saw love in my eyes." Draco pulled away, tilting her chin upwards so he could observe her brown eyes better. "Well, then. Who are you in love with?" He asked accusingly. Hermione laughed lightly. "Hmm. I wonder…" She said, closing her eyes as he kissed her. "Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…" Hermione began to weakly sing to him under her breath as he hugged her close, sucking lightly on her neck. "Mmm…" She groaned, stumbling backwards into the counter as he tackled her pulse points with his tongue.

She opened one eye, examining his closed eyes as he kissed her. She pulled away. "Draco, it's your birthday." She said. "You spoil me too much." She decided, folding her arms around his neck and kissing him square on the lips. "Let's have some cake that I worked eagerly on for breakfast and then we can finish off the feast…" She eyed their bedroom with a broad grin, "in there." She whispered, tracing his lips with a finger. Draco smirked, kissing the finger. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
